


Exposure

by TaleWeaver



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Inspired by Photography, Joffrey is a dick, Photography, R Plus L Equals J, and everyone knows it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: After her malicious ex tries to embroil her in a naked photo scandal, Sansa desperately wants to remake her image - literally.  She turns to her cousin Jon, a talented amateur photographer, for help.Written for jonsasmut's summer 2018 event. Day 5: Watching Me





	Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> The photos that inspired this story have been assembled in a picspam, which I can't figure out how to embed in a second chapter (yes, I tried following the instructions in the FAQ)  
> EDIT: now that tumblr's been bleached, you can find it at mediafire  
> http://www.mediafire.com/file/5rv657vw5yszyij/exposure_picspam_1.jpg/file  
> Most of these have been lurking in my 'sinspiration' folder for at least four years, and I have no idea where they came from. I'm pretty sure several of them was from the dirtysexyclassy tumblr, if anyone knows if I should be giving credit to someone, please let me know so I can do so.

Jon Snow loved his Stark cousins, with everything he had.  He’d go through all Seven Hells for any one of them, and was certain that they’d do the same for him.  But there was no denying they’d also dragged him into a hell of a lot of trouble over the years, even though it was usually the fun kind of trouble.

Between Robb’s obsession with motor sports - Jon had avoided at least two traffic accidents due to his rally-driving skills, and kept a motocross bike in the garage; Arya’s addiction to extreme sports – Jon still went rock climbing every month, but was never jumping out of a perfectly good airplane ever again; and Bran’s fascination with amateur cyber-sleuthing of unsolved crimes – Jon was incredibly glad that Ramsey Bolton would never hurt anyone else, but **Bran could have fucking died** -

Frankly, Jon was vaguely surprised he didn’t have grey hair at the ripe old age of twenty three.

It was probably just as well he was twelve years older than Rickon – the Old Gods knew what the kid would have dragged him into, given he was already showing a suspicious interest in wilderness survival techniques and urban exploration.

Sansa, on the other hand, was the calm centre they all tended to revolve around.  Her explorations tended towards the artistic and cultural – all the Stark kids went to the Wintertown medieval fair in costume every year, and Arya had finally worked out how to adapt jousting for motorbikes.  The most dangerous thing Sansa had ever involved him in – well, besides that thing with the fiberglass jockstrap for DragonCon – was when she’d kept him out until 3AM during midterms, in an underground club where they’d drunk absinthe underage while listening to a band dressed as nightmarish fairies performing dark, yet strangely melodic Gothic rock and electronica. 

Who would have thought that Sansa, so sweet and well-mannered that she’d been nicknamed ‘Lady Sansy’ since the age of three, would drag him into the most outrageous escapade of all?

“Sorry, I think a fuse blew in my brain.  You want me to do **what**?”

“I want you to photograph me nude,” Sansa repeated patiently.

Jon blinked a few times as his mind re-booted, then looked at her thoughtfully.  “This is about that skidmark Joffrey, isn’t it?”

Uncle Ned had been friends with Robert Baratheon since his own high school days.  Robert had even been set upon marrying Jon’s mother, Lyanna, at one point.  But Lyanna had quickly realized that even by the usual standards of the rich, powerful or famous crowd both the Baratheons and Starks ran in, he was an utter man-whore with no respect for a woman’s brains or capabilities, and no matter how much he claimed to love her, Robert wasn’t going to let a wedding ring stop his quest to lay every woman in sight.  Lyanna was willing to put up with a lot of things from those she loved – she’d put up with Jon’s father stringing her along for three years, after all – but being repeatedly humiliated in public wasn’t one of them. 

Uncle Ned had always felt guilty that he hadn’t put a stop to the whole mess at the start.  Which was one of the reasons he’d gladly let Lyanna and her son live in Winterfell with his own wife and children, and acted as Jon’s guardian whenever his mother was off on her international charity or study trips and couldn’t take him along.  It was also why when Robert had suggested that a match between his oldest, Joffrey, and Sansa might be a nice idea, Uncle Ned had encouraged Sansa to date Joffrey. 

In Uncle Ned’s defence, Joffrey had been quite good at hiding the fact he was an emotionally abusive control freak who’d been spoiled to the point of sociopathy, who had not only inherited all of Robert’s worse traits but his mother’s too.  Lyanna had been at her most diplomatic when she said that Robert had gotten exactly the wife he deserved in Cersei Lannister.

Sansa hadn’t dated Joffrey for long, because Joffrey had quickly decided that Sansa was his property, and therefore he had no need to hide his true personality.  When Sansa strongly objected to his true personality, Joffrey had bribed one of the RA’s for Sansa’s dorm, and snuck in to photograph Sansa in the bathroom.  Sansa had thrown his cell phone out the window – from four stories up – but the images had automatically been backed up to the cloud.  When his blackmail attempts failed, Joffrey had released the images online. 

Robb had enlisted Jon, their friend Theon, Arya’s not-my-boyfriend Gendry and even Jory Cassel to make it very clear to Joffrey just what a stupid thing he’d done. It was Arya, though, who’d made Joffrey piss himself.  In the meantime, Uncle Ned had promptly brought every inch of his extremely heavy clout to bear, and instead of closing ranks around Joffrey the Lannisters and Baratheons had turned on him.

It hadn’t taken long for Joffrey to be very sorry. 

But apparently so was Sansa, still.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, you know,” Jon offered.

 **Absolutely** nothing.  Jon had seen the photos himself, and it hadn’t surprised him that not even Joffrey’s snap-and-run shots could make Sansa look anything less than beautiful.  Jon couldn’t admit to anyone that in his case, it had also been eye-opening… and pants-tightening.

“I keep telling myself, that.  But it’s been a year, and every time I’m introduced to someone, I keep asking in the back of my mind _“Have you seen those photos?  Have you seen me naked without my knowledge?_ ”

“And you think that the answer to that is taking **more** naked photos?” Jon asked evenly.

Sansa nodded.  “I want to reclaim my image, Jon, literally.  I want to control exactly what the camera sees, and what others see.  I’ve found a couple of tumblrs that are focused on artistic photos of nudity and sexuality, and I want to display myself that way, by my own choice.  You’ve been a photographer since you were Rickon’s age, and I’ve seen your stuff, so I know you’ll take great photos, and I know I can trust you.  Not just to keep quiet about this, but to create the images I want.”

Jon had to admit, her logic was sound.  His mother had given him a camera when he was ten, when Lyanna had taken him with her to Essos while she studied the remnants of the Dothraki culture, and he’d been hooked ever since.  He had the skills to do this properly, and he’d never betray Sansa’s confidence. 

The only problem was, Joffrey’s photos had flipped a switch in his brain.  Before, he’d adored Sansa.  Now, he adored her and fantasized about fucking her on a regular basis. 

“Well, Jon?  Will you do it for me?”

Jon suppressed the instinctive, filthy response that came to mind, and nodded.  “When did you want to start?”

Sansa took a deep breath, and suggested, “How about now? I’m not quite ready to go fully nude, so I thought we could work towards that?  I’m wearing a really nice set of underwear, just in case you said yes.”

Jon sighed in resignation.  “Of course I was going to say yes. You knew that before you came here. What did you have in mind?”

Sansa smiled mischievously.  “Well, I did have hopes… I don’t want to show my face, in any of the pictures.  I thought maybe something simple to start?  Sprawled across the sheets in my lingerie.  I thought some really nice jewellery would be a good touch, so I went through the Winterfell safe for some of the heirlooms.  I didn’t tell Mum what for, though!”

Ten minutes later, Sansa was stretched out on Jon’s bed, wearing nothing but Dornish silk lingerie and the rope of antique pearls that had once belonged to Minisa Whent.  After some experimenting with the bedside lamps for lighting, Jon made the camera view zoom in on Sansa’s upper chest, focusing on the pearls rather than her breasts. 

[SESSION ONE PHOTO]

As he snapped several shots, he asked, “Should we make the photos black and white?  That way there’s no chance someone will recognize your red hair later.”

“Great idea,” Sansa smiled. 

Later that night, Sansa sent him the link to the tumblr where she’d posted the photo.  He spent an hour trying to get to sleep before he gave up and took himself in hand.

 

***

 

A week later, Sansa asked him to come over, and bring his camera.

When Jon knocked at the door of her apartment – she’d moved three days after Joffrey’s so-called ‘prank’ – Sansa came out the door instead, and led him to the elevator.

“You’ve met my friend Margaery, right?”

Jon squinted in thought, and flashed to a memory of tumbling brown curls, a lovely smile and a green, low-cut cocktail dress showcasing a truly superb pair of tits.  “Your birthday party?  The brunette in the green dress, and the gold rose pendant?”

“That’s her.  If you didn’t think socializing with undergrads beneath you, you’d know her a lot better.”

“I don’t think it’s beneath me,” Jon countered.  “I just don’t relate to the college party scene much.  I won’t get my Master’s just by asking pretty please, y’know.  So, you’ve talked to her about this?”

“I haven’t told her I’m posting the photos online.  Or that I’m going to pose nude, eventually.  Just that you’re helping me with my image issues.  She’s been really supportive, and she’s lending me her bathroom, because it’s a lot prettier than mine, and some accessories.”

“What kind of accessories?” Jon asked suspiciously, as Sansa unlocked the apartment door.

“You’ll see in a minute.”

‘Accessories’ turned out to be a black wig, half the length of Sansa’s real hair, an elaborate mask, and black leather gloves.

Sansa let him watch as she tucked her hair underneath the wig, and applied dramatic eye makeup and lipstick.

“Okay, so even if I need the wig and mask, I feel like I’m ready for the next level.”

Sansa took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.  Jon covertly eyed the lift and descent of her bustline, and it occurred to him that something was different. 

Then Sansa slipped off her blouse.  Underneath it she wore a black satin waspie over an A-line skirt in black-and-white brocade.  And nothing else.

Jon’s hands trembled, and he mindlessly tightened his grip on his camera.  As Sansa slid on the gloves, Jon thanked the Old Gods he’d had the presence of mind to change into an untucked button-down shirt and his baggiest jeans after Sansa called him.

Naturally, Sansa even looked beautiful under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom.

With the camera masking his eyes, Jon was free to look his fill of Sansa’s gorgeous breasts, watching them move as he directed her to move the mask in front of her unsmiling face to cover it while still revealing an almost-glaring eye.  Whatever the mask didn’t disguise, Sansa’s uncharacteristically grim expression did.

 

[SESSION TWO PHOTO]

 

Jon managed ten minutes and a dozen snaps, before he bade Sansa a polite but hurried farewell and hauled ass back home, before he gave into the urge to bend Sansa over the sink.  He went straight home, left a trail of clothes to the bathroom, and painted the shower tiles with his seed twice before the water went cold.

 

***

 

Another week, another call.

Jon’s fantasizing about Sansa – whether wrapped around him, spread out beneath him or arching above him – had gone from a regular occurrence to frequent.

In an uncharacteristic burst of recklessness, Jon wore his usual skinny jeans and formfitting T-shirt to the new photo session, even knowing that he’d be seeing more of Sansa than ever before.  He wasn’t getting over this infatuation with Sansa, so maybe it was time to see if it just possibly might be mutual.  If she wasn’t interested, then so be it.  But maybe, just maybe…

Sansa and Bran were far and away the most thoughtful of the Stark brood.  Even with seven years between them, he and Bran had always been close, just as Bran and Sansa were.  When Robb, Arya and Rickon were racing through life at top speed, Jon and Sansa were the ones who sat with Bran and talked about anything and everything: were Daenerys Stormborn’s supposed dragons some kind of prehistoric throwback preserved by the isolation of the Great Grass Sea, or just the name of her warships?  Did Harry Hardyng and the Hard Boys really sing on their tracks, and did they actually count as legitimate music?  Who would win in a fight between Sandor the Hound from Dragonpit comics, and Tarth Graphics’ seminal hero Goldenhand?

However, puberty meant that there were some discussions that Bran wasn’t privy too.  Jon and Sansa had had a lot of long conversations over the years, and several of them had been about what they wanted in a romantic partner. 

Jon knew perfectly well that he was a die-hard romantic, just like Sansa, he just didn’t admit it much around Robb, Theon and Arya.  But neither of his previous relationships had lasted more than a year.  Part of the reason for that was his cousins fulfilled all his emotional needs, and always had.  In the end, the only place he and his lovers ended up needing each other was in bed, and that wasn’t enough for Jon; he wanted a woman he could share every aspect of his life with.  Jon knew that he fit every wistful hope that Sansa had ever shared about her dream man. He was absolutely certain that Sansa filled every item on his own wish list.

It wouldn’t even be the first time he’d slept with a woman related to him by blood, though no one looking at him and Dany in the few months they'd been together had ever guessed it.

Grandfather Rickard and Grandmother Lyarra had been cousins.  Maybe history was worth repeating.

Sansa opened the door with her hair up in an elegant French twist, wearing nothing but a silk robe the same colour as her eyes, and Jon licked his lips in anticipation.  Sansa was half-scared, half-eager, her hands constantly flying about as she told him about the idea she’d had for this session.

“Well, I’m ready to go fully nude, but I’m not sure about being as brightly lit as I was in Marge’s bathroom.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Jon told her calmly.  “You’re the one calling the shots.”

“But you’re the one making them!” Sansa shot back.  Her cheeks had flushed slightly when he’d called her sweetheart, Jon was sure.  “I need you to tell me whether it would make a good picture or not.”

“What did you have in mind?” Jon asked curiously. 

Sansa had always had excellent visual taste, whether in making her own clothes or decorating a room – when Robb first moved out to share with Theon, they’d simply brought Sansa to the empty house and turned her loose.   All her ideas for her previous photography sessions had turned out well, and Jon was sure this would too.

“Well, over the past week the movie theatre on Luwin Street’s been having a noir festival, and you know how much Bran likes old movies.”  At Jon’s nod, she continued, “So in the past week I’ve seen _Maltese Falcon_ , _The Third Man, The Big Sleep_ and _Laura_.  I want to do a version of those shots where someone’s looking out through the rickety venetian blinds, and their body is overlaid with the shadows from the slats.”

“That could work really well – did you have a location in mind?”  Then Jon frowned, and asked, “Wait, why didn’t you guys call me for _The Maltese Falcon?_  You both know it’s one of my favourites.”

Sansa grimaced, “We were going to, but Robb said he’d already booked you for a night at the pub with him and Theon.”

“You mean Friday, when he disappeared twenty minutes in and spent the rest of the evening trying to chat up a medical student from Volantis?  Leaving me to watch Theon try to out-drink his sister, fail miserably, and drag his sorry arse home after he threw up his toenails in the gutter?”

He hadn’t actually cared before, but now it was official: Jon was completely and utterly out of fucks to give about Robb and Theon’s opinion of him dating Sansa and giving her as many orgasms as possible.

“Anyway, no jokes please, but I thought maybe the storage closet off the living room?  It’s the only door or window in the place with slats.  I tried it out yesterday, and as long as the lights are on in the living area it gives just the right effect.  I just don’t know if there’s enough room for you to work?”

Jon bit his lip, hard enough to taste blood, and nodded.  It was either that, or tell Sansa that a closet was more than enough room for him to give her everything she wanted, but if she wanted him naked he’d probably have to undress outside.

“Okay.  I’ve already put on all the lights outside the closet so… shall we?”

The piles of miscellaneous stuff stacked on the coffee table testified that Sansa had already emptied the closet.  Jon followed Sansa inside, and pressed his back against one wall, while Sansa leaned back against the opposite wall, next to the already closed door.  Jon lifted the camera to his eye and fiddled with the zoom, adjusting the focus so the shadows through the door cut off Sansa about the neck and wrapped around her outer thighs, and then reached out to close the second door.  He closed his eyes for several seconds to force his vision to adjust quickly, then opened them again, gazing at Sansa through the viewfinder.

“Okay, just need to check the flash is off… done.  Okay, sweetheart, whenever you’re ready.”

Sansa took a deep breath – parting the silk in interesting ways – then untied the robe and let it drop.

By the Old Gods and the New…

 

[SESSION THREE PHOTO]

 

Jon locked his suddenly weak knees, so he wouldn’t fall onto them and start begging Sansa to let him worship her cunt.  Her cleanly shaved cunt, and was that a hint of…

“Jon?  Can you get a clear shot?” Sansa asked quietly.

“Holy Seven, you’re gorgeous.”

“Um, thank you.  And the shot?”

“Uh, yeah, can you tilt your left hip back towards the wall a little?  Yeah, that’s perfect.  Now take a deep breath and hold it? Okay, just a couple more shots… done.” Jon gulped for air as Sansa slipped her robe back on, and ventured, “I think these are the best yet.  Ready for me to open the door?”

“Just let me… sure.”

Jon threw open his door, and blinked in the sudden dazzle as the light flooded in, streaming over his body.  He tilted his hips slightly, to make sure that if Sansa cared to look, there was no way to miss the erection that fought the confines of his zipper.  He made no effort to wipe the hunger from his face.

“Are we still having lunch?”

“Of course, Jon,” Sansa replied, and her voice cracked when she said his name.  “You’re doing me a big favour.  A home-cooked meal is the least I can do.”

“It’s not that big a favour – I’m enjoying using my photography skills like this.  Okay if I use your bathroom?”

Jon groaned in relief as he undid his jeans and reached for some toilet paper.  He was so worked up, it didn’t take long.  Ygritte had always chided him for being quiet in bed, so he didn’t hold back his grunts and moans – he did bite back Sansa’s name when he came, though, just in case.

Sansa blushed and smiled a lot during lunch, which Jon thought was a good sign.  He was ninety percent certain she hadn’t bothered to put her bra back on when she got dressed while he was in the bathroom, which Jon thought was a very good sign.

But Sansa not only served him her famous hunter’s stew, with fresh bread from the bakery on her building’s street level, she’d baked a fresh batch of lemon cakes, and she let him have **three**!

Jon thought that was the best sign of all.

 

  ***

 

It was one month exactly, since Sansa had first come to him with her ‘project’. 

Jon had decided; this was the day.  Fly or die.  He was going to make love to Sansa, or all his hopes were going to crash and burn.

He knocked on the door, almost on fire with anticipation – not just for sex, but for seeing what Sansa had come up with for this week’s photo session.  He'd been completely sincere when he told her he was enjoying this as a photographer.

Sansa was all eagerness this time, almost bouncing in place, and wearing the black wig again, along with her silk robe.  Jon licked his lips at the implications - did that mean he’d finally get to see her completely in bright light, every lovely curve of her on open display?  Jon looked at the long legs peeking out underneath her robe, covered in opaque black stockings, and wondered if there was a garter belt underneath.  It seemed a bit… well, clichéd.  Personally, Jon preferred his women wearing nothing but themselves.

Sansa caught his hand and led him towards the doorway of her bedroom, which Jon appreciated.  Less distance to travel.

He looked past Sansa into her bedroom, and asked, “New bedspread?”

Sansa half-turned, and looked over her shoulder at him.  “From a charity store. I’m not sure whether to keep it for photo sessions, or get another for each session.” She broke out into a heart-stopping smile, and continued, “Okay, I originally had this idea to be looking out the window and using the curtain as a kind of veil?  But then, Margaery asked me for a favour. Margaery’s grandmother is Olenna Tyrell, who founded the House of Highgarden?”  At Jon’s negative headshake, Sansa explained, “Fashion house.  Very upscale.  Anyway, Marge had this awesome idea for one of the models for the next show, and asked me to let her do a practice piece.”

Sansa faced away from him fully, and slid off the robe.

Jon’s jaw hit the floor.  For a moment, he actually forgot he was looking at Sansa naked.

Sansa’s back was covered from shoulders to hips with an elaborate, colourful tattoo, which even flowed over her left shoulder and down her arm.  Her arm had a rose under a bell jar – maybe roses were an emblem of this house?  Wasn’t there a noble house in the Reach with a rose on its shield?  Her back had portraits of the Mother, cradling a baby, and the Stranger behind her right shoulder.

“There’s no way that’s real.  That kind of ink would take **months**.  But Gods, it looks incredible.”

“Isn’t Margaery talented?  It only took her a couple of hours.  I want to take a photo that shows off her work.”

Jon frowned.  “You’re going to show this to her?”

“Oh, no.  Marge took a couple of photos after she finished, with my skirt waistband pushed down so you couldn’t actually see anything.  That’s what she’s going to show her grandmother.  I told you before, I’m not telling anyone about the photos online.”

“And if she stumbles across the tumblr you’re posting on?  Didn’t she lend you that wig?”

Sansa ducked her head and mumbled, “I stole her phone, went into her tumblr account and blocked the tumblr I’m posting on.”  She lifted her head, tossed her false hair, and added, “If she finds it and shows me anyway, I’ll just deny it.  I’m very good at saying ‘ _no, it wasn’t me’_ , you should know that.  Remember when Theon’s car got decorated for the Stranger’s Festival, five years ago?”

Jon snickered.  “I still can’t believe you pulled that one off.  You were the only one of us without an alibi, but Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat didn’t even ask you about it more than once.”

Sansa giggled and shrugged, which did interesting things to her artwork.  Jon could actually look beyond it, now, and noticed that her stockings reached right up to her bottom, but that was all.  Easy to take off.

And he was already hard as a rock.

“So, is the doorway where you want to pose?” he asked.

“Yes – the sun’s in front of me, is the light okay?”

“Strike the pose you want, and let me see.”

Sansa lifted her right arm, bent it at the elbow, and gripped her fake black locks.  She leaned right to rest against the door frame, and slid her right foot forward a little to take some of her weight.

Jon moved back a step, and lifted the camera. His hands went through the process of zoom and settings automatically, while all his eyes could do was feast on Sansa’s beauty.

“Will this pose work?”

“It certainly works for me,” Jon muttered.  He was at the point where he wasn’t sure he cared if she heard him.  Sansa let out a tiny gasp, and Jon was fairly certain that she had.

“It doesn’t show every detail of the artwork, but it’s all showing clearly.  Anything more and I’ll need close-ups which wouldn’t work for your purpose.”

He could see Sansa tense slightly, as she told him, “That sounds good.  Take your shot.”

 

[SESSION FOUR PHOTO]

 

Jon took several shots with his camera

Then he decided to take another kind of shot.

“Sansa?  Stay still for a moment?”

Jon put down the camera on Sansa’s chest of drawers, and stepped forward.  He reached for the crown of the black wig, and eased it off her head, tossing it next to his camera.  Sansa’s fiery hair was already uncoiling down her back, and he ran his fingers through it to untangle it, the strands feeling like silk against his palms. Then he wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting on her abdomen, and gently tugged her into standing naturally.  He nudged her earlobe with his nose, and spoke quietly into the hush.

“Sansa, you know I love you, right?”  Sansa nodded, a tiny sigh escaping her lips.  “Well, I also want you.  I have for a while, and… Sansa, you know the effect that taking these photos has on me, don't you?  Last couple of weeks, I’ve given up hiding it.”

“Hard to miss it, in those jeans you wear,” Sansa said with a quiet giggle.

“Exactly.  So in about thirty seconds I’m going to carry you to your bed and spend the rest of the afternoon between your thighs.  If you don’t want that, it’s okay.  I’ll go home and we can keep on just like always.  I’ll even come back for another photo shoot next week, if you’d like.  If you’d like a raincheck to think about it, that’s okay too.  But if that’s your choice, you need to tell me **now**.”

Sansa half-turned in his arms, just enough to let their lips meet. Her mouth brushed his, again and again, teasing him with her kiss.  Her hand lifted to weave her fingers into his hair, and she asked breathlessly, “Jon?  Is it thirty seconds yet?”

Jon grinned.  “Close enough.”

He easily scooped Sansa up in a princess carry, and it took him only a few seconds to lay her on the bed.

“First things first.  I’ve seen what you got, so about time I return the favour.”

His t-shirt landed on the floor, and Jon unbuckled his belt and undid his fly with a sigh of relief.

“Wow.  That looked kind of painful,” Sansa ventured.

Jon shrugged.  “Occupational hazard of possessing a cock, sweet girl.  You get used to it.”

Sansa smiled, and Jon sat down next to her to take off his sneakers.  Unfortunately, his sneakers didn’t understand that he was about have the most important sexual encounter of his life to date, and refused to co-operate.  Jon grunted in frustration as he fought with his shoelaces – why hadn’t he worn pull-on boots, for fuck’s sake? – while Sansa leaned on one elbow, watched his struggles and giggled.

Well, at least she was comfortable enough to giggle.

After a brief tussle, Jon conquered his footwear, and kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks.  He stood up, and faced Sansa, before grasping the waistband of his jeans.  A thought occurred to him, and he asked, “Did you want me to put on a display for you, or just take them off?”

Sansa smiled.  “You’ve never been the kind of guy to put on a big show.  Let’s leave the displays for the camera.”

Jon promptly shoved his jeans and boxers down, and all but dove onto the bed.  Sansa laughed and Jon realized that he could, in fact, get harder. So, Sansa having a good time was a turn-on for him.  He really should have guessed that.

“Should I leave the stockings on?  Some guys like that, right?”

Jon shook his head.  “Covering up your skin should be an official crime.  Lose them.”

Jon watched in fascination as Sansa laid back, lifted her legs, and slipped off one stocking, then the other.  He gently pushed her knees further apart, and knelt between her legs.  Resting back on his heels, he gazed at Sansa, simply taking in the vision of loveliness she presented.

For a few seconds.  Then Sansa blushed, all the way down to her breasts.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?  Like you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on?”

“No I’m not-”

“You are to me,” Jon told her firmly.  If nothing else, he would convince Sansa of that.  “When I saw you last week, it took everything I had not to fall to my knees and bury my face in your gorgeous cunt.”

Sansa’s eyes widened.  “You mean, like… going down on me?”

Her hands flew to cover her mound, and Jon swallowed hard in dismay. 

“Don’t you like it?”

Cunnilingus was one of his absolute favourite things about sex.  He’d discovered it during his very first time, to Ygritte’s astonished approval, and never looked back.  Sometimes he thought the death knell to his relationship with Dany wasn’t her possessive and controlling tendencies, but the fact that she only liked bestowing, not receiving, oral sex.

Sansa gave another charming blush.  “Um, I’ve never tried it.  I’ve only ever done it with Waymar, the summer after high school, and we only did it a few times.  I’m just not comfortable with the idea…”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Jon told her.  “You’re the one calling the shots.”

“Maybe that’s something else we could work towards?” she asked.

Jon leaned forward, easing himself down to lay on top of her.  “I’m not going anywhere, sweet girl,” he murmured.  “Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.  In the meantime, if I don’t get to kiss you there, then I want to kiss you here.”

He bent his head, and leaned forward to brush his lips with hers.  Her mouth parted under the gentle pressure, and their tongues danced in a slow, sweet kiss that spun out into an eternal moment.  When they parted for air, Sansa let her head loll back on the pillow and closed her eyes, the better to feel the tenderness in Jon’s hands as he weighed the curves of her breasts in his palms, before stroking her hard nipples with his thumbs.  She moaned quietly as he bent his head to kiss them, clutching his head to her chest as he licked first one nipple, then switched, his fingers playing with the other.  When he tugged with his teeth, very gently, her back arched right off the bed, and Jon let his body drop sideways to control the momentum. 

They both laid on their sides, now, and Jon kissed her again.  One arm cradling her shoulders, his free hand slid down her spine, slowly and almost lingering.  It curved completely around the cheek of her bottom, and suddenly squeezed hard.  Sansa jumped in surprise, and her topmost leg sprang up to rest on Jon’s hip.  She felt Jon’s lips curve into a wicked grin beneath hers, and knew she’d just literally opened herself for his next move.  Sansa broke the kiss and sighed in relief as she felt his skilled, sure touch between her thighs, easing the ache for him.

“Before I completely lose my mind, do we need to use anything?” Jon murmured into her ear.

“I planned for the long term with my birth control.  No babies for the next three years,” Sansa replied.  “Had a health check at my last gynaecology appointment.  You?”

“Clear.  Are you okay doing this raw?”

“I’ve never done it that way.  If it’s with you, I’d love to try it.”

Jon groaned and muttered a curse, before rolling Sansa onto her back again.  She instinctively spread her legs wide, bending her knees and planting her feet on the bed, exposing herself for him in a new way.

His long fingers were dipping inside her now, in quick and shallow movements that left her core longing for more contact, as his thumb nudged between her folds to rub at her clit.

When they parted for breath, Sansa’s hips tilted in clear invitation.  Her voice was thick with desire, and she all but slurred, “Come here Jon… waiting for you.”

Jon gazed directly into her eyes as he entered her, and kept pushing forward, slow and steady. Biting his lip, his hands clenched into fists as he fought for control.  The truly wanton moan Sansa gave once his hips were flush against hers didn’t help.  It had been years since he'd done this, and nothing he'd done before had prepared him for being inside Sansa for the first time.  The wet heat, the tightness wrapping around him until every square inch of his cock felt like it was being caressed at once.

Panting for breath, he managed a strangled, “You okay?”

He could feel the brush of silken hair against his face as Sansa nodded, “Mmmm-hmm.”

She wriggled a little beneath him, and Jon grabbed for one of her hips to keep her still.  “Wait, don’t move yet.”

“S’okay, I’m ready.”

“I’m not.”

Sansa giggled, “Wow, Jon, do I really feel that great?”

“ **Yes!** ”

The heartfelt, instant reply must have convinced her, because Sansa just murmured, “Um, thanks.”

She’d reached underneath his arms to grip his shoulders from behind, and now her hands started stroking his back, slowly and gently, and Jon could feel himself drawing back from the edge.  Heaving for air, he dropped his head to rain kisses up and down the side of her neck.  Sansa gave a happy sigh, so Jon pulled out, just a little, before thrusting forward again.  Sansa threw back her head and moaned, and Jon began moving, alternating slow and sharp strokes.  She whimpered softly as she clutched his shoulders, and the sounds echoed down his own throat as he swallowed them with his kiss.

Sansa’s breathing had quickened, and her hips moved faster, and he knew she was right on his heels, racing him to the finish line.  He instinctively clutched her close, right before her legs tightened around him, and her core tightened and pulsed around him.  Jon buried his face in Sansa’s neck to muffle his shout as he came, his ears catching the delighted gasp Sansa gave as she went over the edge with him.

His climax didn’t end quickly, waves of pleasure swamping him and receding, only to wash over him again, leaving him trembling and on the verge of collapsing on top of his new lover.

With the final dregs of his energy, Jon rolled onto his back, and Sansa coiled into his side and snuggled, pillowing her head on his shoulder and resting her forearm across his chest.   Jon sighed, and turned his head to kiss her on the forehead.

His heart was still beating so fast, and maybe that was what pushed the words past his lips.

“Sansa... This is it, isn’t it?  The last first time.”

“I think maybe, yeah,” Sansa whispered.

A wolf always knew when they’d found their mate.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: The sequel, Double Exposure is now up!


End file.
